Sweets
by The Half Mad Muggle
Summary: Albus and Minerva work together to find a way to cheer their overworked and thus incredibly grumpy Potions' Master up.  One naughty word!


**Sweets**

_One very special person will understand this more than anyone else._

_Albus and Minerva work together to find a way to cheer their overworked and thus incredibly grumpy Potions' Master up._

* * *

"Did you see how he snapped at Sybil today?"

"Well, sometimes that woman needs snapping at. She is as barmy as anything."

"Yes, but still. He's never normally so impolite. Sarcastic, yes. But downright uncouth? That's not him."

"Maybe he is simply overworked?"

The person referred to as "he" was a topic of discussion across the school—especially in the staffroom. Now, he had never been the most endearing or indeed amicable member of staff. In fact, it was the opposite—most teachers stayed out of his way, taking to stepping into another classroom just to avoid his wrath, which manifested itself in sarcastic comments delivered with a biting tone and impeccable timing.

At the moment, the man was worse than usual. The teachers had thought he could sink no lower, but when he had made an offensive comment about Sybil's mother during the staff meeting earlier that morning, before storming out in an overdramatic huff, people had been slightly concerned.

"Albus." Minerva McGonagall was one such person. Now, she and he argued over almost everything, but it was friendly banter that she enjoyed participating in. And she did believe that sometimes, Sibyl needed someone to bring her down a few pegs—so she privately revelled in such insults that her younger colleague showered upon the Divination Professor. This morning's performance had not, however, been a warranted attack. It had just been an attack. And this concerned her. "We need to do something about him."

"What do you suggest, Minerva? Do not think I have not tried. He's as unapproachable as ever. If I recall correctly, he told me to "bugger off" unless I wanted something terrible to happen to my beard." Albus twinkled at her from across his desk. They had been deliberating over some new curriculum changes, but she had been determined to bring this topic to the table.

"We have to do something to help. He's miserable, Albus."

"No, Minerva, he is not miserable. He is simply overworked. He does it deliberately, I am sure. He takes on far too much work; this research project of his demands so much of his time, yet he is far too happy to take on extra favours to others too. He is still working on that potion for Horace, you know, that he started working on in November..."

Minerva simply stared at him. "On top of teaching? And marking the work? _And_ attending all our staff meetings? Is the man mad?"

"No. Simply...too eager to please. It is one of his best, and yet worst too, character traits, for it means he never spends any time on himself." Albus shook his head, "He still feels he has debts to repay, and I believe that losing himself in the work helps him to put his mind at rest."

Minerva sat back in her chair, folding her arms. "Then we must do something for him."

"My dear, how can we do that? He will not let anyone near him, and we certainly cannot do his project or any of his other work for him—for one thing, he would not let us, and for another, it is simply impossible." Albus reached into his tin of sherbet lemons, offering one to her, to which she shook her head, still lost in thought.

"I want to help him. We're his friends, we should be able to ease the burden just slightly. I'm worried, Albus, that he will simply burn himself out, if he does not have some help."

Albus smiled, sadly, at the sherbet lemon held between his thumb and forefinger. "Unfortunately, he is not a man of simple pleasures. Helping him is not as easy as it first seems."

Minerva stared at the sherbet lemon, eyebrows knotting together in thought. As Albus slipped the sweet into his mouth, raising an eyebrow at her scrutiny, she murmured to herself, "That's it."

"Are you going to suggest to me, Minerva dear, that my sherbet lemon has brought you an answer to how we are going to help our grumpy Potions' Master?"

Minerva looked up. "Simple pleasures. He does not have any simple pleasures that we know about. But we can find out."

And from those words, Albus was intrigued.

* * *

"Severus!" Minerva sat down in the chair opposite Severus with a loud greeting. The Potions Master glanced up, glared at her, and then turned his attention back to the book in his hand.

"I was wondering if you would help me?" Minerva continued, seeming to ignore the fact Severus had practically ignored her. "See, some of my students have been asking about..."

"Minerva." Severus raised his eyes to hers. "With all due respect, I am rather busy, at the moment."

She reached forward and pulled the book from his hand. "Not any more."

"Give it back. I am on a rather tight schedule, and am only in the staff room because the Headmaster insisted..." Severus' expression suggested that he would rather be anywhere but here. Minerva was not going to let that stop her. "You can take a break from your work, just for a moment, to help me."

"Very well." Severus raised a sharp eyebrow. "Make it quick."

She smiled at him, "Of course. I know how important your work is to you. My students were talking about Muggle sweets, in their Transfiguration lesson..."

"And why were they not disciplined and made to _stop_ talking?" Severus interrupted. She glared at him, and he half-smirked, "I assume that means they were Gryffindor students?"

"Severus, I am not turning this so far pleasant conversation into an argument about house rivalry. Please, try and stay amicable."

Severus looked about to roll his eyes, but his respect for the Deputy Headmistress made him nod instead. "Of course. I apologise. Please continue with your frankly fascinating discussion."

Minerva decided not to comment on this, "And I was intrigued. So I have been asking around our colleagues with Muggle connections as to what their favourite sweets are. Or were."

Severus looked incredulous, "You interrupted my study to ask me what my favourite sweet is?"

"Yes." Minerva realised that this really was a pathetic attempt, but, it was all part of the cunning plan. So she simply fixed what she hoped was an endearing and genuinely interested expression onto her face before continuing, "So. What's yours?"

Severus screwed his nose up, "I care not for sweets. You can tell that to the Headmaster, who insists on metaphorically shoving his yellow atrocities down my throat every time we meet."

Minerva had to stifle a laugh at that, nodding in agreement, "I know. He does like them, you know. But, that is beside the issue. You must have liked one? Once?"

"If I tell you, will you go away?" Severus asked, "And will I be able to have my book back?"

"Absolutely." She was a Gryffindor, after all.

"Very well. When I was a child, we had one grocery shop, and it had a small section selling general confectionary." Severus paused, almost reflective for a moment, "I remember that I used to be given an allowance—before my mother died—and I used to save it, just so I could buy this one chocolate bar. It must have taken me...four or five weeks to save enough money. But it was worth it." He nodded to himself, "It was definitely worth it." He jerked back to the present, "It was a chocolate bar with five different fondant centres. Fry's, I think it was. I have not had one in years...when the shop closed down, I never saw them again."

Minerva felt the flare of triumph in her chest. "How wonderful. No one has mentioned that one yet."

Severus looked at her, pointedly, "My book?"

"Of course. Thank you, Severus." She handed the book back to him, which he promptly opened and started to read as if they had never had the discussion. Minerva left the staffroom—and was joined not more than a minute later by Albus.

"Did you hear what he said?" She said to him. Albus nodded, "I do not understand why _I_ had to be the one who was hiding behind the armchair."

Minerva smiled, "It matters not. He told us what we wanted to know."

"Indeed. Although why we are still bothering, I don't know. He has hurt my feelings by suggesting that I threaten him with sherbet lemons! If he would just accept my offer..."

Minerva cut across him, "Albus, not everyone likes those incredibly sweet..." She shook her head, "Anyway. Now all we have to do is find..."

She trailed off quickly when the staffroom door opened again and Severus swept out. He stopped and stared at Minerva and Albus, who Minerva realised must look like two scheming students, lurking in the corridor talking in hushed, conspiratorial voices.

Severus simply raised an eyebrow at them and then began to walk away.

"Severus!" Albus called after him, "Would you like a sherbet lemon?"

Severus turned, favoured Albus with his most terrible glare, and then stalked off. Albus and Minerva dissolved into laughter, "You should stop winding him up when he is so strung out, Albus. He is an ex-Death-Eater, after all!"

Albus nodded, still smiling. "He enjoys it, really."

Minerva recovered herself, "Now we just have to find it."

* * *

Severus Snape slammed the door to his office loudly. He liked the way it reverberated against the wall, and how the sound echoed in his small room. He threw the pile of parchment he was carrying onto his desk, without looking, and then buried his head in his empty hands, groaning. He had the most terrible headache, and he really just wanted to sleep.

By his armchair, on a small wooden table, was his Potions' report. A project that meant so much to him, would grant him such fame should he finish it successfully, and yet he could not care for it at the moment. It was too tedious. He sighed.

"Come on, Severus." He turned to his desk. He would do his marking, and then he would consider having some dinner and then spend the night editing and correcting his work so far. There was a package on his desk, wrapped in brown paper and tied with string. Post.

"Well, why didn't you get delivered at breakfast?" He asked of the package, as if expecting the package to reply. "What are you? Some kind of practical joke? A student prank?" He pointed his wand at the parcel, and cast a quick spell learnt in his Death-Eater days to determine if the package was dangerous in any way.

It came back negative. "Fine." He reached out and undid the string, tearing a small hole in the brown paper.

There was something teal in the parcel; he pulled it back and nearly gasped in surprise. "What?" He knew the wrapping instantly. "How?" He pulled out a solitary chocolate bar, emblazoned with the brand name "Fry's".

He couldn't help the smile that graced his mouth, "Minerva." He should never have trusted her. "Well played indeed." He held the chocolate bar for one moment, before making his decision. He needed a night off. He needed a night where he did not have to brew potions. A night where he did not have to sit scribbling over students' work. A night where he did not have to worry about his grammar or punctuation in a report that was taking up so much of his time. A night off. A night off with his favourite chocolate bar.

He deserved that, did he not?

* * *

He didn't know that he was being watched. When he settled down in his arm chair with a glass of red wine and his chocolate bar, which he savoured, relaxed for the first time in days, he did not know that he was being watched by two people who had orchestrated such a thing.

Minerva glanced at Albus, "I'm glad we did this."

"We could not help him any other way; we could not do his work for him, so the only thing we could do was make him smile."


End file.
